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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25907038">Thunder and Lightning</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hambone/pseuds/Hambone'>Hambone</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dark Souls (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal, Ball spanking, Begging, Calamity Ring, Light CBT, M/M, Non-Consensual Spanking, Orgasm Denial, Stuck in a wall</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:02:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,280</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25907038</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hambone/pseuds/Hambone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Crestfallen Merchant, after some loot to hawk, finds himself in a tight spot. Then, someone else finds him, and the spot gets tighter.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Chosen Undead/Crestfallen Merchant</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>78</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Thunder and Lightning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Geeze, Crestfallen Merchant, don't you ever read the lore before you put on a ring? SMH</p>
<p>Anyways here's more fun with the big guy, my underappreciated waifu! Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>    There was someone back there, in the wall. The Merchant could see them, a little rotten body all curled up, scarps of cloth and plate mail still wrapped around it as if they could offer protection from the hell of this fortress. He wasn't sure if they were still alive, at least in the sense any Undead could be alive. There was no movement, no sound, no signs of activity at all, but the body hadn't been here the last time he had gone poking around and most Undead would be called back to the fire upon death. Catching them before they faded was his preferred method of collection, of course, but it was one thing when he was watching them from a distance and saw for himself the way they took a fatal slip or angered one of those horrible serpents into delivering the final blow, and it was another when he was coming across them entirely by chance, unable to know their physical condition, or gauge how much of a fight they'd put up if he laid hands on their valuables.</p>
<p>    It was not easy for him to make it this far down into the bowels of Sen’s Fortress, and he was not keen on returning to his sanctuary empty handed. While business was never particularly good here, he had been running low on the few items he had to sell and, as the months dragged on, without a fresh soul or crumb of humanity in sight, he was becoming desperate. Every day he could feel the fear consuming him, the horror of emptiness clung to his back and weighing down his every step. Even now, as he stood beside the odd dugout in the wall, considering his options, he already knew the choice he’d make in the end. He could not afford to miss a single opportunity, not anymore. Care was a luxury he had lost all familiarity with. Tugging out his sword, he slid it through the opening slowly, trying to avoid any sound, until the point reached the Undead's back. Then, quickly, he prodded the body. Nothing. The Merchant released a long sigh.</p>
<p>    The hole was low for the Merchant, such that he had to crouch to look inside it. For an average human it would be about waist height, but knights of Berenike were not built the same way, and he had to squat in a way that was too high to be comfortable to shimmy his torso into the opening, leaving his sword and shield by his feet. The Undead hadn’t dug the space themself, but they had widened it some, removing a few more bricks. He wasn't sure exactly what the thinking behind the act was, because he was about as safe in his little hidey hole as anywhere else in this wretched place, but those at this point in the process were likely beyond reason. It became more comfortable once his chest was through the opening and therefore able to rest without his entire weight being on his toes, though the Merchant was already regretting the entire ordeal as his body blocked the light from outside and his plate scraped the stone loudly with each push. It was a surprisingly deep space, if narrow, mostly dirt and crumbling masonry, enough so that he pushed in all the way to his mid-thigh before he could reach the Undead's body, but once he’d made it that far he was more absorbed in his reward.</p>
<p>    As expected there was not a lot on the body, mostly small ores and scraps of rubbish, but when he flipped the person over, already forgetting his initial fears, a small glimmer of metal on the Undead's finger caught his eye. It was a ring, one unlike any he’d seen before. The metal was a deep color, looking black in the low light, cast into an ornate shape with a three pronged gem in the middle. Four, in shape, but one of the petals of the piece seemed to be missing, or intentionally omitted. Whatever the case, the stone glowed lowly, just enough to be perceived but not enough to illuminate, a soft orange, like embers in the dark.</p>
<p>    While he had never seen such a design before, he did not care to ponder over it here, in this increasingly cramped space, so to save room in his hands for the ores he slipped it on his finger and began to retreat. Or rather, he tried to begin, for when he had gotten back far enough that his feet were again flat on the ground there was a horrible screech of metal on stone and he found himself stuck. At first he was still mostly consumed by the hassle of dragging his treasures out with him, wriggling around and trying again, but as his movements continued to yield no results the creeping realization that he was actually trapped began to manifest. Being a man who was already prone to think the worst, the Merchant laughed a bit, placing his hands palm down to brace himself, chiding himself for being careless. He’d come in, so naturally he could come back out. While it had been a tight squeeze, he reasoned, there was no possible way the shape could have changed or narrowed during the minute or so he’d been inside, and therefore it stood to reason backing out was just as doable. He pushed again, hard. The metal of his plate rang against the stone so loudly it hurt a little. He growled, and tried again. And again.</p>
<p>    Panic did not come to him the same way it had before, when he was significantly more human. Now, when faced with a task that was not immediately surmountable, the Merchant had begun to slip into a more animal mindset, one he knew was caused by hollowing and hated. In a situation such as this, surrounded by darkness, a corpse, and a quickly developing sense of claustrophobia, he was struck with this feral nature almost instantly. Within seconds he had devolved from trying to joke at his own expense to roaring in fury, kicking and pounding at the wall from both sides in a useless attempt to free himself. Though he could not see or know this, the wall had indeed not changed shape, but the angle at which he had positioned himself had changed just enough that where he now tried to exit the shape of his heavy plate mail simply did not fit. The solution would have been simple enough, if he had given it time, but that was out of the question.</p>
<p>    When he came back to himself, he had an immense headache. His struggles had netted him little else; though he could not be sure how much time exactly had passed, the light from behind him seemed dimmer, or perhaps that was simply how his eyes were adjusting. He’d also kicked up an impressive amount of dust in his clamor to get loose, and as he half lay there, panting, his nose had begun to run and his eyes were reddened with irritation. He must look as miserable as he felt, but the Merchant comforted himself wryly with the thought that at least whoever came upon his pathetic corpse would not be able to see his face.</p>
<p>    As if summoned by the thought, something brushed up against his leg. It was such a sudden thing that at first the Merchant thought he had imagined it, a touch conjured by his tired mind combined with the wind generated by the hellish machinery built into Sen’s walls, or from the rubble left over from his hollowed tantrum rolling down the fabric of his trousers. It was light, nothing more than a tickle, and the second time it raised the hairs all down his neck. The primal part of him that all men kept inside conjectured that it might in fact be alive, some sort of insect or other monstrous little creature, and the third time he felt the touch he could not help but kick his boot out, almost a spasm, in some attempt to shake whatever it was away. When his foot instead collided with a very solid, very metallic form a mere few inches from where he was, he nearly screamed, lifting his head up so quickly the top of his helmet struck the ceiling of the hole and momentarily blinded him with stars.</p>
<p>    There was no mistaking this object for anything but a humanoid leg. The exhaustion-fugue of his frenzy broke in an instant, panic shot through his heart like an arrow. Before he’d even blinked the static from his eyes, he was reaching behind himself, towards the juncture of the passage where his waist remained pinned, kicking out again just to be sure he’d felt what he thought he’d felt.</p>
<p>    “H-hey! You! Who’re you?”</p>
<p>    It was not the most eloquently stated question, but the Merchant was impressed he could remember how to form words at all, with his emotions stretched so thin. Between having gotten himself trapped in the first place and now being faced for the first time in longer than he could remember with an unexpected visitor, he was being tested beyond anything the past years of despair had been able to offer. The person, or what he at least hoped was a person, remained silent behind him, but now that it was obvious that the Merchant had caught onto whatever game they were playing, they lost any facade of care and put both hands on him, firmly.</p>
<p>    More specifically, they put both hands directly on his ass. This was just about the last thing he had been expecting, and the Merchant had to physically restrain himself from again cracking his skull against the ceiling.</p>
<p>    “What are you doing? Hello?”</p>
<p>    At least with something to focus on besides his own idiocy, the Merchant was able to keep a better grasp on himself, trying to remember the proper human etiquette for situations analogous to this. It was pretty unlikely a hollow or snake would be just standing there patting him down, as the person was now, their hands firmly rubbing across his buttocks and down the outside of his thighs. They were probably trying to rob him. Normally that would be bad, but, lucky for him, the Merchant’s own greed that had stranded him here in the first place now seemed a boon.</p>
<p>    “Look, I, I know you're probably after my goods, and I don't blame you,” he tried, speaking as loudly as he could without the echo aching in his ears, “but the fact is I haven't got any on me, not there at least.”</p>
<p>    The person did not cease their exploration of his legs, smoothing down to the backs of his knees and then up again, this time along the interior of his thigh. It was an incredibly intimate touch, one unlike anything the Merchant had felt in years, and he locked his legs together on impulse, unable to help himself. This had the unintended effect of pressing the hands tightly where they were caught, uncomfortably close to his groin, and before the person wiggled them free they gave him a good solid squeeze.</p>
<p>    “I've got some nice things here, in the hole with me,” the Merchant continued nervously, “really, I know it sounds like a lie, but that's why I got in here in the first place. If you let me out, Ill give you all of it, I swear.”</p>
<p>    The hands had now moved up to where he and the wall met, perhaps testing to see exactly how trapped his quarry really was. It was not a great sign, but it was better than a sword in the spine. At least, he thought it was, until they found the buckle of the belt that secured his faulds and began to undo it.</p>
<p>    “That's not necessary! I've told you, I have all my goods in, in here! Just pull me out and I can-!”</p>
<p>    Rather than pulling him out, the person instead pulled his whole skirt of plate right off.</p>
<p>    “What the hell are you doing?”</p>
<p>    At this point he was more baffled than anything, the nerves that had been slackening since he had decided his captor was nothing more than a petty thief immediately growing taut again. Under his plate he was not exactly naked, still covered by a tattered gambeson and his underclothes, but it was the first time he had shed any of his clothes in years and the sudden lack of weight around his hips was extremely noticeable. The person seemed keen on divesting him of everything, immediately flipping up his tunic so that it all bunched up around the Merchant’s waist, effectively blocking out what little light he had and dampening most sound besides what he himself produced. This was unnerving enough by itself, but immediately after, with little fanfare, there was a quick pressure as his hips and then his trousers were pulled down all the way to the knee.</p>
<p>    That was enough of that. The Merchant drew back his leg and kicked out again, this time with intent. Not being able to see his attacker hindered his aim some, but he still felt his boot collide with the armored shin he’d met before, this time hard. Even with the cloth muffling it, he heard the painful clang of his strike landing home on the person’s greave clear as anything, followed immediately by a deep shout. It sounded like it hurt. The Merchant grinned to himself wryly, almost laughing, that dark part of himself that had taken hold of him earlier surfacing just enough to encourage him to lash out again. He had just enough time to wind up for another kick when the person retaliated, the palm of an open hand cracking down solidly across the Merchant’s backside.</p>
<p>    He was an accomplished knight, even if he did not remember much of those accomplishments these days. The Merchant, before he became a merchant, had traveled the land with his legion far and wide, a conquering force to be reckoned with. He had slain demons, monsters the size of ten men, taken out hordes of pillaging bandits alongside his brotherhood. In short, he was a strong man, even beside his size, one who had borne the brunt of many wounds in his life, and many deaths in what came after; he was not someone who yelped like a cur at the slap of a hand, and yet here he was, deafened by the echo of his own shrill cry of surprise and pain, shocked totally still until the second time the palm came down, across his other cheek, and he had to strangle back a howl. Either this person was one of the most impressively powerful beings walking the earth, or the Merchant was severely out of shape, because each successive slap burned up his backside like the flat edge of Lord Gwyn’s legendary blade.</p>
<p>    And successive they were. Enthralled by the give of the Merchant’s plump ass, the person continued to spank him with wild abandon, laying smack after smack across his quivering buttocks. The Merchant, half torn between mortification and rage, flailed his legs out wildly, trying to land a kick whenever he could but mostly just to keep himself from going mad. It did not help. Every half fumbled blow he landed was repaid tenfold, til the sounds of the shark slaps against his meaty bottom were drowned out by his own indignant and genuinely pained squawks.</p>
<p>    “You- you must stop! Leave it off, for Gwyn’s sake! Stop it!”</p>
<p>    Something about the immensely human shame of being spanked like a naughty schoolboy somehow kept him from sliding back into the mindset of a hollow despite the stinging burn spreading up his spine, and this ended up saving him, for there was only so much a man could take and after a particularly rough smack that brought tears to the corners of his eyes, the Merchant slumped in defeat.</p>
<p>    “Forgive me!” he blubbered, knocking his knees together in some pathetic attempt to shrink away from the cruel treatment, “I’ll give you whatever you want!”</p>
<p>    He was not sure if his assailant was still lucid enough to understand him, but between his words and the submissive posture he took on, they did cease their attack. For a stiff moment there was nothing, just the heat emanating from his surely bruised buttocks, and then the person shifted. Instinctively the Merchant flinched away, but when their palms came to rest this time it was with a gentler touch, though not by much. Both hands gripped at his ass, totally unabashed in their hunger, kneading at his tender cheeks. He was incredibly sore and the massaging did not mitigate this, but it wasn't a wholly unpleasant feeling either, preying on his overtaxed nerves confusion and sending shocks of both pain and an uncertain pleasure down his legs, so that his knees went weak.</p>
<p>    “Aw, what now,” he growled, though the effect was undermined by how high and strained his voice had become. The answer came almost immediately; with the same callous indifference to his suffering as they had shown before, the stranger pulled apart his buttocks, exposing him completely. The Merchant jerked in place, trying to close his thighs as if that would help, but was further impeded when the person let go of one cheek to reach deeper between his legs and wrapped their rough fingers around his balls. That was enough to still any man’s blood, and the Merchant was no exception, all the fight immediately draining from his body as he froze in terror. The spanking had been humiliating at worst, but this delicate part of himself would fare much more poorly under the same treatment.</p>
<p>    “N-now there’s no need for that!” he squawked, trembling as his smarting buttocks reminded him exactly how powerful these hands were, “I promise I won’t strike at you again!”</p>
<p>    Uninterested in his prattling, the stranger rolled his palm around the delicate skin of his scrotum, as if weighing a bag of coins. The touch was a knowing one, and if he was in a less precarious position the Merchant may have been unable to stop himself from clobbering the lout. As it was, he could do nothing but lay still and pray as his balls were fondled carefully between his assailant’s fingers, heavy and long unspent. It was not something he had taken much notice of for the past several years, decades perhaps, trapped in isolation, but now that his attention was drawn to them he could not help but burn with yet another shade of mortification over what he must look like. Even he could not remember the last time he’d seen his naked form, but it was clear that he was being scrutinized, and he could only imagine what was being seen.</p>
<p>    As this was happening, the stranger’s hand that still parted his buttocks inched closer between them, until their thumb slid snugly into the seam therein, just above his asshole. So distracted was the Merchant by the hand upon his junk that he didn't notice this until the strange swiped his digit directly over the pucker of his hole. It was not a painful touch by any means, light enough to almost tickle, but there was an inherent threat to having someone’s fingers approach that place that had his spine ramrod straight. There was still nothing he could do to alleviate the tension, but his already foggy mind was growing frantic with the implication. Sweat that had been accruing behind his brow now streamed down his face, darkening the collar of his undershirt. Perhaps noticing this, the hand on his balls squeezed gently, again dividing his attention, for this sensation too was not meant to hurt, sending a little bolt of pleasure through him.</p>
<p>    “You mustn't do that!”</p>
<p>    Now he was beyond begging, dignity far out of reach, his voice trickling out in a high pitched squeak. The stranger’s thumb rubbed up and down his crack, passing over his hole in a lazy rhythm. Between his legs the other hand gave him another good squeeze before feeling out the root of his cock. Even unaroused, it hung fat there, twitching as the stranger tickled greedily along the underside, discovering his size. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but the Merchant was beginning to grow hot in ways unrelated to his embarrassment and fear, light headed from breathing the thin air around him. His hands flexed into fists at his side helplessly, torn between horror, indignity, and the hollow fingers that always lurked behind his conscious thought, urging him to give into animal temptation. At this time he was not sure what that was, but nothing good could come of it.</p>
<p>    “Please,” he stammered, “this is- you cant possibly mean to-”</p>
<p>    The thumb swirled a bit more firmly across his hole before decisively popping in, only a bit, but it was enough to make the Merchant bite his tongue in surprise, clenching everything. The thumb was dry but it was such a slight penetration that all he felt was the nerve endings sparking to life, memories of a more pleasurable burn surfacing one by one. The cobblestones on this path were made up of the fingers that wrapped around his heavy length, stroking the soft skin into hardness with cool and even movements, clearly practiced. The Merchant dug his toes into the stone below, trying to ground himself in some sensation other than the pleasure that was deliberately being worked into his soft stomach. The little crevice he was in felt like it was boiling, not helped by how tightly he was compressed, his breathing labored already.</p>
<p>    This went on for several minutes, at least as far as his increasingly scattered thoughts could tell. The stranger had him fully erect now, firmly tugging on his cock as the thumb in his ass did little more than massage the ring of muscle at his rim open. It was maddeningly gentle, as much so as the thrashing he’d endured earlier was unrelenting. Being trapped as he was, the loudest sounds were those he himself created, his own whining gasps for air echoing back and encompassing him in their wretchedness. He tried to keep his mouth closed, muffling the sounds just a bit, but by now a combination of the head and his own distress had made his nose run and he only ended up sniffling and snorting like a sad pig, which was arguably worse to hear. Every now and then the hand on his prick would climb all the way to the top and enclose around the head of his cock, swollen and dark now, and massage it relentlessly, until the tender skin felt almost raw from it, the tip of a finger ever so slightly prodding at his slit, and when he’d had so much he thought he would be unable to hold back his cry, they’d retreat again to the only slightly less agonizing caressing along his shaft.</p>
<p>    He was beginning to think he’d go mad when the thumb in his asshole retreated. By now his cock was curved up towards his stomach, only held back by its own great weight. It was pathetic how hard he was, but every sensation felt new, almost virginal to him, as if he’d never done more than jerk himself off before this, never felt another man’s tough hands upon him. To be fair even he himself was struggling to remember the last sexual encounter he’d had, with whom and where it had occurred. Flashes of dark heat danced just barely out of reach; someone who had bent him back along a table and taken him raw, several pairs of lips upon the column of his throat, a fat, solid cock smearing precum on his cheek before he fumbled it into his mouth, splitting his throat apart. His dick visibly throbbed and, for the first time since their encounter had began, he heard something that may have been a vocalization from his assailant, a snort, maybe a laugh.</p>
<p>    “H-hey,” he started, but broke off into an open mouthed yipe as the stranger screwed two wetted fingers into his ass. This time he couldn't stop himself from kicking out his heels, not in any coordinated attempt to attack the stranger but out of a purely animal desire to escape the sudden onslaught of sensation, the stretch that he had not been prepared to endure. After many long years a soldier, the Merchant had developed resistance to most wounds, but somehow this seemed to split him to his very core, as if magnified, both painful and deeply erotic. Unrelenting, the stranger twisted their fingers around inside him, as deep as they’d go, bluntly rutting him open. Panting open mouthed, the Merchant struggled to gain control of himself.</p>
<p>    “You shouldn't- haah!”</p>
<p>    The fingers spread apart, exposing his soft pink insides to the eyes he could not see but could certainly feel, probing him almost as tangibly as their hands. As he complained, the hand on his shaft grabbed his balls again, this time tightly, a definite warning. He could not stop himself, though he was unable to do much, shaking his hips in a poor attempt to dislodge the fingers inside him, but all it did was force them deeper, or at the very least prompt their owner to do so, stirring him up violently in response. The Merchant tried to protest more, or apologize, or otherwise have any say in what was happening to him, but every time he opened his mouth all the words he’d strung together in his mind poured out in a soupy mixture of moans and grunts, resulting in nothing coherent. Again they proved to be highly skilled at the art of taking him apart with just a few well placed touches, because the Merchant dissolved into a quivering mess in their hands the moment they began to thrust their fingers. That must have been it, because he knew that, even after years of celibacy, he had never been this sensitive before, with every slide inside him he felt himself burn with pleasure.</p>
<p>    Either through cruelty or unintended sloppiness, the stranger managed to avoid his prostate every time, just barely ghosting the right spot with each push. The Merchant wasn’t sure whether he cursed or thanks the gods for this, because he was so close to being totally undone that even the still firm vice upon his balls was a sick sort of gratification to his aching cock. His asshole was clenching down around the stranger desperately, even as it loosened to their whim, so much so that with each withdrawal of the fingers inside him came an obscenely wet sound, and with each push in a noticeable shiver up his spine. It was such that even without much stimulus his orgasm began to writhe in his gut, the first warm trickles of it seeping into his groin.</p>
<p>    The moment he thought it would hit him, when his mouth was dry with anticipation, his ears ringing, the fingers pulled out entirely. It was so sudden, so close to the precipice, that the Merchant could actually feel himself yanked away from the budding release, so jarring and painful he actually gasped.</p>
<p>    “No, no, no!” He trembled, trying to look over his shoulder as if he’d see anything in the darkness of his miniature prison.</p>
<p>    “Wh-why? I was- you can’t just-!”</p>
<p>    He was almost tempted to weep, or to scream. His cock actually hurt, it was so heavy with need, bobbing there between his legs as he attempted to push his hips back into those hands that had left him on the edge. His hole flexed open lewdly, the Merchant half hoping the sight would be enough to entice the stranger back.</p>
<p>    “What do you think you're doing back there?”</p>
<p>    The Merchant couldn't even find it within himself to sound angry, everything about him strung taut with desperation. As he said this, a hand wrapped around the base of his cullions, between the shaft of his cock and the swollen globes of his balls, and pulled them back so that they were fully exposed behind himself to the stranger. He was already sensitive and confused, and this was no gentle gesture, pulling the skin tight. Before he could come up with other complaints and questions, the stranger clapped their free hand down onto his exposed testicles harshly. The pain was immediate and shocking and he instinctively lurched away, howling, but they had him firm in their steely palm and did not let go.</p>
<p>    “Why are you-!”</p>
<p>    Another slap across his balls, with the same strict decisiveness. It was likely they weren't spanking him there with the same strength as used upon his still smarting buttocks, but to assault this fragile spot, already so anguished from having been denied orgasm, inflamed to the point or bursting, was like nothing he could ever remember having felt. With unerring precision they struck down at his delicate balls again and again, even as he kicked and yowled, til he was sure consciousness would fail him and he would be left entirely faint and useless in this hole for whatever duration of time it took for a beast to find and slaughter him. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, snot hindering his breathing, and through it all his cock pulsed with arousal below, every spank igniting another spark to fuel the flames of need inside him. It shouldn't have – it hurt terribly, like he was going to die, brutal and terrible, but even as he begged for mercy with a voice so ragged and torn it could hardly be understood, precum was streaming down the underside of his dick like a fountain.</p>
<p>    “Please!” he squealed after a particularly punishing slap, “I'm sorry! I’m sorry!”</p>
<p>    They hesitated and he broke down, shaking all over.</p>
<p>    “I don't know what you want!”</p>
<p>    A finger ponderously traced across the flesh it had so recently struck, and he could practically feel the jism swelling in his balls.</p>
<p>    “Please!”</p>
<p>    He was released. The Merchant sobbed in relief, spreading his thighs wide apart to keep from accidentally brushing the angry skin. He didn't even care when the hands spread his ass again, when a metallic shifting made its way muffled to his ears. Both his cheeks and his testicles were throbbing in pain and pleasure, and his head was spinning from lack of air and arousal. He was going to die from this, he was sure. Then he groaned out an anguished moan as, without any warning, the stranger pressed their cock inside him.</p>
<p>    Compared to their fingers it was massive, splitting him open wide. Inch by inch they sank it in, slickened with assumedly the same substance their fingers had found earlier, till he could feel the itch of their pubic hair against him, their own balls swinging against his backside. The burn complimented the ache in his tenderized flesh well, another heady wave of pleasure staggering the Merchant into submission. He couldn't even hold his head up anymore, laying his cheek against the cool metal of his helmet on the floor of the crawlspace as he tried to remember how to breathe. Fully sheathed, the stranger pet him, several long strokes between the small of his back and the place where he was stretched around them.</p>
<p>    That was all the warning he got before they began to fuck him. There was no initial pause, no slow, shallow jerks to get them accustomed to the pressure, just an immediate jump to ramming into him without hesitation. The Merchant couldn't take any more, bouncing in place as he was humped savagely, getting the full brunt of the sensation, finally. Every time their hips met his sore ass prickled, their balls swinging together with the momentum. He had to bite his lip for fear he’d crush his teeth against one another, tasting blood, barely registering it. No longer able to ignore his prostate, every slide in and out dragged against it wonderfully, rubbing him raw, hitting him deep. Fat squelches accompanied the thrusting, the slap of wet skin on hard metal ringing loudly throughout his crevice. It was incredible - it was too much.</p>
<p>    The hands that now gripped his waist to anchor their thrusts were those of a normal human size, but their cock must have been massive, because each time it speared into his bowels it felt as though he was being torn in half, so overwhelmingly great a sensation he was winded each time, only able to wheeze out his pleasure. His prick felt heavy and swollen, like overripe fruit. If he could he would have reached back and grabbed it himself, frigged himself to orgasm, but he could not and thus was left with no recourse but to slam himself back into every punishing thrust and they dragged him closer and closer, rough and blunt. He was going to be black and blue all over, memories for weeks to come of how he’d been rutted out by this madman, evidence of their encounter only he would know of, a thought which made the Merchant’s asshole pulse madly. He was sure his ass would bruise, especially now, with the stranger’s armor clad hips pummeling them, his thighs where they were clasped tight, every one a reminder of his being conquered. He clenched down hard just as the stranger’s cock pulled back, grinding tortuously against his prostate, and the Merchant’s control broke.</p>
<p>    “O, Gods!”</p>
<p>    Thick streams of cum erupted from his cock as he continued to bounce on the stranger’s dick, painting the wall he was trapped in. hunching over him, what little they could at least, the stranger fucked him like a dog, the silken squeezing bearing down on them like nothing else. Their own finish raced to meet them, uncaring of how quickly, hedonistic and selfish. With a few short thrusts they too began to cum, never ceasing in their rhythm, filling his eager ass with their release.</p>
<p>    The Merchant couldn't stop cumming. his prostate was battered over and over by the stranger’s frantic movements, his balls contracting so hard it hurt. It was like every orgasm he had denied himself for the entirety of his isolation was now forcing its way from inside him, excruciatingly intense. He dug his fingers into the crumbling interior of the wall helplessly, blind in the darkness save for a light orange glint from the ring he’d pilfered earlier. He tried to beg the stranger to stop, because he was losing his mind, going hollow, but all that came out were anguished wet gasps for air. His cock bounced against his stomach, splashing him with jism. The stranger pulled out and the emptiness was jarring. He clenched down involuntarily, the strain of his orgasm squeezing his every muscle, and their spendings spurted from his hole as if in parody of his desperate cock.</p>
<p>    It did not end all at once, his cumming ebbing slowly, like a receding tide. Every time he was sure there was nothing left within him, his balls would contract with another piteous dribble. The Merchant felt drained, melted, even his bones aching and tired. He lay there, in his prison, damp and unmoving while the throbbing in his body lessened little by little. He never wanted to move again. Still, even with his brain puddled at the bottom of his skull, he knew better than to simply accept his situation.</p>
<p>    “Sir?”</p>
<p>    It took him several tries to get the word out, his throat gummy. As expected, there was no response.</p>
<p>    “I… I am glad we’ve worked out our differences,” he snuffled, wincing as another dribble of cum pushed its way from his asshole, “but please, please have pity on me now.”</p>
<p>    Silence. Not even the shuffling that had let him know he was not alone before. While his hearing was still ravaged by the beating of his own heart, the Merchant was fairly certain he was correct in his assertion that they had pulled away from him.</p>
<p>    “Sir?”</p>
<p>    With what felt like an impossible feat of strength, he stretched out one of his legs into the empty space behind him, hoping for some contact. The hall was again vacant. Whomever had been there was long gone.</p>
<p>    “Lord have mercy.”</p>
<p>    Balling his hands into weak fists, the Merchant glared into the blackness that ate his vision. Of course, whatever bastard was skulking around these parts, sticking their prick into strange bottoms, would be the kind of miscreant to abandon him as they'd found him. Of course. Why would anything good ever happen in this god forsaken place?</p>
<p>    And so he lay there, glowering, for an unknown amount of time, jarred every so often by the rumbling of machinery in the walls, or the ever threatening whisper of a snake’s hiss from somewhere behind him. Now that he was no longer being directly abused, his exposed bits stung in the cold winds that occasionally traveled the passages, drying the cum that had striped him to itchy patches all down his thighs. He tried to cross his legs a bit to defend himself, but the contact with his bruised balls was too much and he was forced to remain spread and limp, like some kind of obscene statue. It was not until he was finally about to give in to exhaustion, eyes closed, that another set of footsteps began to approach. Perking, the Merchant could do nothing but wait, and pray, twisting the found ring on his finger absently as he listened.</p>
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